


possibly i like the thrill

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky and Steve object because it sounds so old-fashioned, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nat says they’re courting, Other characters in minor roles - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Romance, it’s accurate though, like feelings, taking it slow, when everything’s been sorted out and they can focus on more important things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Bucky should have guessed that now that everything in his life is fine; he’s cleared of his crimes, mind fully his own, living back in New York, and getting to hang out with Steve, his head would come up with new problems.In this case it’s a decades old problem of being too attracted toward Steve, something he’s never meant to act on because it’s not mutual, and he doesn’t want to mess up their friendship. Only, the way Steve is looking at him these days is definitely new.Now what is he supposed to do?





	1. so quite new a thing

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic is finished and in the editing process, so I should get it all up in a relatively tight schedule. I hope to post another chapter tomorrow, and the rest of them every few days.
> 
> Titles for both the fic and chapters are taken from [this poem](https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1590/i-like-my-body-when-it-is-with-your/) by E. E. Cummings.

There’s always a new source of problems, Bucky thinks, although he has to admit he’s grateful this one is a lot less severe than pretty much everything he’s experienced over the last seventy-five years.

Truth is, everything in his life is fine. First of all, he’s awake, his head is all his own now that the triggers have been cleared away by the diligent efforts of a group of Wakandan scientists and doctors lead by none other than the princess Shuri herself. Secondly, he’s been cleared legally; it was determined he was not responsible for his actions under HYDRA’s power, his handlers shoulder all the blame. He’s having a harder time accepting this, but he does appreciate it’s not the whole world anymore that’s coming after his head, only about half of it, probably. Thirdly, he’s back in New York, albeit state, not the city. He’s living in a small house near the Avengers compound, at the outskirts of the town.

Steve is back too, as are the rest of the Avengers. It took the world trying to go to hell to achieve the amendments for the Sokovia Accords, to make sure that the enhanced are treated like people. There’s oversight on operations, but if one just wants to live their life, they can without anyone breathing on their neck any more than with people in general. The Avengers are now all working as one group again. There are still rifts among the team, within personal relationships, but they’re mending, and Bucky thinks it’ll all be fine in time, maybe even sooner rather than later. He is an Avenger now too, partly so that those feeling uneasy about him have the relief of knowing he’s part of an officially monitored group, and also because it’s something he’s good at, taking out threats regular people can’t.

He refuses to live at the compound, though, it’s too much. He does crash in Steve’s guest room, or sometimes on his couch if he’s feeling twitchy, at least a couple of times a week. Rarely, maybe once a month or so, they end up both sleeping in Steve’s bed, often after close calls on missions, when being close to each other is the only way to calm down.

Everything is good, better really than he has any reason to expect, but human mind isn’t good at being content. Now that all the major troubles that have to do with survival have been cleared, there are others that have popped up, chief among them one that hails back from three quarters of a century ago.

Unsurprisingly, it has everything to do with Steve.

It has taken a while, but they’ve made their way into a friendship that’s probably as close as the one they had before everything went to hell with the war. It’s not the same friendship it used to be, after all they’re not the same men, and hence their relationship has shaped itself around them in a new way, but it works for the people they’ve become. Bucky’s more quiet, but it doesn’t mean he’s less likely to find the humor in any given situation. Steve is less likely to burn his fuse these days, but it doesn’t mean he’s any less prone to get angry. They talk more, and less at the same time. The words have new weight, there’s less idle chatter, but they’re braver too, more likely to put even the painful things into words. Their experiences have made it necessary for them to at least try.

All in all, it’s good, it’s easy with Steve, and Bucky should be satisfied. Only he isn’t.

He’s always known he loves Steve, ever since he remembers. That part has never caused a conflict for him. He never before the war really bothered to think about what exactly it meant that he loved Steve, which now strikes him almost unbelievable, but it’s still true. He just did, and he knew there’d never be anyone he’d love more, or anyone that would be more important to him than Steve.

He always knew it wouldn’t do to speak his sentiments aloud, least of all to Steve, there were too many ways it could have been misunderstood, but he lived according to it. He often met people who suggested that it must be hard to be Steve’s friend, with all his illnesses and the strain they put in their lives, but Bucky never felt that way. It was unfair, that he would admit, but not for him. It was unfair for Steve who deserved so much better. Bucky worked for the both of them, and Steve did too whenever he was well, and a lot of times even when he wasn’t. For many years they were each other’s family, and it was simple, living together.

When Steve found him on Zola’s table in Austria, suddenly a foot taller and twice as broad as he used to be, Bucky immediately knew things would be different, only it took him a few days to figure out exactly how. On the march back Steve fell into his role of a leader, even as he confessed to Bucky he really was improvising as he went, since he’d come unsanctioned. Bucky took up his job as a sergeant, trying to make sure the all-important practicalities worked, and pointed out others Steve could rely on. The march was hard, they had to be on the lookout, help those injured, keep the group moving, but during the rare moments of quiet they still talked to each other easily as they ever had. It was an immense relief to Bucky to know that despite the fact something had completely overhauled Steve’s body, clearly his heart and soul were just the same.

It took a bit of adjusting to the fact that he no longer was the only one who looked at Steve and saw him, respected him the way he deserved. Everyone in the group did, and there was this irrational part of Bucky who wanted to tell them to back off, that they had no right since they hadn’t seen the good in Steve before. Of course, it was even more irrational considering these particular people had never even had a chance to know Steve before all of this.

The unease in Bucky got slightly more pronounced when they came back to the base, and Steve actually looked at Peggy Carter with his heart in his eyes, but Bucky told himself he’d get over it, it wasn’t like she’d get between them. What they had was one thing, and she’d fit in Steve’s life without Bucky having to move anywhere. As if to prove the point, as soon as the cheers died, Steve took a hold of his arm and like the most concerned mother hen ever saw to it that he got checked by the medics, never letting him out of his sight.

The problem arose when they finally after a meal found showers to get cleaned up.

At first Bucky didn’t even think of it, after all he’d been in the communal showers with any number of men recently, not to mention he had lived with Steve for years in an apartment where if they wanted a bath they had it in the middle of the kitchen, usually together to save the hot water. So there was nothing new about it as he scrubbed off the sweat, mud, soot, and whatever else there might have been on him. They talked about this and that, nothing too important, until he happened to glance at Steve to reply a question, looking away right after because that was what you did, so as to not give anyone ideas.

It felt like there was an image burned on his retinas. Steve kept on chattering, telling some story about when he’d been in Chicago, but Bucky didn’t hear a word. He’d known Steve looked different, bigger and more muscled, but the details were nothing like Bucky had expected, and his reaction was even less so.

Steve was huge, compared to before, but still lithe and even graceful, nothing like the big men Bucky had seen at his work place at the docks or here among the army. He had legs that seemed to go down miles, narrow hips and a small waist that Bucky thought he should be able to fit in the circle of his hands. His shoulders were wide, making his back an improbable triangular shape, and somehow he had, quite frankly, a rack that most women should be jealous of. His nipples were peaked under the cold water running over them, and suddenly Bucky was grateful of it even though he’d just spent a good while complaining about freezing. He stepped fully under the spray, trying to dim his flaming cheeks and settle other parts of his body that were taking too much of an interest in what he’d seen.

Later that night he lay in his bed and tried to wrap his head around what had happened. It didn’t make sense, because he’d never felt like this about Steve. He’d loved him, but it hadn’t been like this, hadn’t been physical. He hadn’t had to try to will his dick down when it tried to plump even at a memory of what he’d seen.

He felt rotten about it, because what did it say about him when this happened now with Steve’s new body? He was no better than the people fawning over Steve now even though they wouldn’t have given him the time of day before. He was worse than them really, the worst hypocrite, because he had always known Steve, and yet he was now drawn to such superficial thing. It was demeaning toward Steve, no mistake about it. 

He didn’t sleep at all that night, and Steve fussed over him in the morning, worried, probably thinking it was something to do with what he’d been through while HYDRA’s prisoner, and Bucky put on a brave face and tried to reassure him. He also encouraged Steve to go and talk to Agent Carter. When he had a moment by himself, he resolved he’d keep their friendship as it ever had been, that Steve would never know about his new line of thoughts.

He managed it too, all through the war. Steve was none the wiser, just as comfortable with him as ever. Bucky tried to banish the physical attraction toward him, but he never managed.

Now that they’ve become close again, and Bucky’s mind is blessedly free of problems, the old desire has come back. Over the last years, even after he regained his sense of self and learned to enjoy things just because again, his libido was mostly dormant, and he didn’t feel any kind of attraction toward other people. Now it has come back, and since Steve is right there in his space, it’s no surprise he’s again the target.

It’s different now of course, with the increased openness and acceptance in the world. There’s nothing wrong about his feelings on a societal level, he’s not going to be thrown out of Avengers or into jail for them. The problem is on the personal level, the fact that it only happened with Steve’s new body and hence feels all too superficial that’s the problem, the reason why Bucky has a hard time accepting his feelings. It has nothing to do with how much he cares about Steve, that is still as deep as ever, and completely independent of the attraction. He decides again there’s no need for Steve to know.

He almost wishes, though, that considering all the things he lost with HYDRA messing with his brain, this could have been one of them. But just almost.

***

In practice, ignoring his physical attraction toward Steve isn’t easy at all. During the war he managed reasonably well, and he thought he’d just go back to that, but he disregarded how his mind was a lot more occupied back then. On field they had to always be on guard, always ready to face whatever the enemy might throw at them, and back at the base they mostly slept, trying to get on top of the constant sleep deprivation. Then there was Peggy, whose presence worked as a welcome buffer for Bucky.

Now, even though they go on missions somewhat regularly, most of the time they’re safe. Not only that, they’re living on the lap of luxury especially by their standards from before the war. Life is easier than ever for him, and it leaves a lot of time to think.

There isn’t anyone who has a claim to Steve these days. Bucky would respect it if Steve had someone he cared about, but no one seems to have caught his eye, not to mention his heart. Bucky asked soon after he was woken up from the ice what happened with Sharon, and got a shrug for an answer, Steve telling him it didn’t work out, that they’d realized fairly rapidly they were better as friends. He hadn’t really seemed torn about it at all. These days Steve focuses on his work and his friends, and he seems content, no desire to even try and find a romantic match.

It leaves Bucky vulnerable, because Steve is with him often, either at his house, or he’s at Steve’s apartment, and when they’re not doing anything that requires focus it always feels like he’s hyper-aware of Steve’s presence. It’s different from missions or even training; when his focus is on a purpose he can leave the attraction behind, but he doesn’t manage it if they’re just hanging out.

After some time passes and it’s obvious there’s no way for him to just suppress his feelings, he decides to change his strategy. Instead of ignoring it, he focuses on the attraction, turns it around in his head, trying to figure out the whys and wherefores.

His fragmented memories immediately provide a new difficulty. He doesn’t really have that many occasions he can refer to of being attracted toward other people. He remembers how he felt for Steve, because his memories of Steve in general tend to be the clearest he has of his past, and logically this aspect follows suit. Everything else is muddled. He remembers going out with girls, has even some impressions of fooling around with them, but he thinks he did it because it was expected, and it was easy and fun. He doesn’t think there ever was anyone who meant something more to him. There are other fleeting pictures in his head, of men during the war, but they don’t provide any more clarity to his problem.

Whatever attraction in general used to be for him, he’s fairly sure it’s different now. When under HYDRA, he was so thoroughly overhauled, his sense of his body turned completely sideways, that he’s not fully recovered from it, and he knows he never probably will be. He used to be a complete deadzone when it came to anything sexual, and while he’s been recovering, while he can and does now touch himself, there mostly isn’t any desire to get close to someone else, or have them touch him.

Steve is the only exception.

It’s almost funny how differently his brain works when it comes to Steve compared to everyone else. In general, his mind automatically turns to threat assessment, cataloging how the people around him could be a danger to him, as well as their weak points. It’s always there, and it doesn’t really allow for physical attraction. The people closest to him know it happens, he’s talked about it and they accept it, they know there’s a difference between thought and action, and that he holds that line in an iron grip.

The way Steve registers in his brain is something else. He’s still aware of Steve’s strengths and weaknesses, but the former don’t feel like a threat, and the latter he instinctively wants to guard rather than take an advantage of. It makes him somewhat ineffective sparring partner for Steve; they do fine during a warm up, but when there’s need for serious training they work with other people. They are better than ever when they need to work as a team, though.

It has been the same ever since Bucharest; when in control of his own mind he never sees Steve as a threat, but back then the attraction was still dormant. It’s raised its head now, and Bucky has a hard time coping with it, especially since Steve is so comfortable with him, easy with physical contact in the form of leaning their shoulders together on the couch, hand on his arm or shoulder when they’re talking, or kneading out the kinks in his back. Bucky always says he could ask their massage therapist to do it, and Steve always points out he never goes there, which is true. Also, Bucky can admit it to himself, after a while the negligence definitely became deliberate.

He catalogs all the different ways his body reacts to Steve’s, all the different things that catch his eye. Some of it is as he expected, other things more surprising. It still bothers him that the attraction only bloomed after Steve came to him in brand new body, and it’s not really a surprise that he finds himself admiring Steve’s long powerful legs or the ripple of the muscles of his back. It’s somewhat more confusing the way he responds to Steve’s tiny waist or his prominent chest, because it feels too much like he thinks he should respond to the same areas of a woman. He still can’t help but think that Steve does better on the chest area than most women, and it feels like he’s putting Steve into a mold he doesn’t fit, that Bucky’s attraction is misfiring somehow.

It’s even more confusing, and yet oddly reassuring, that aspects about Steve that didn’t change are attractive to Bucky as well. There’s the sparkle in his blue eyes when he laughs, there’s the frown of concentration, there’s the hair that’s as silky as ever. Yet he’s seeing them differently from how he did before the war.

There are a lot more things yet that he likes about Steve that don’t surprise him. They’re the less superficial things; Steve’s opinions and convictions, his love of art and the sense of humor, even his stubbornness. Bucky’s heart skips a beat whenever it’s especially obvious that Steve is happy, but it’s nothing new, it’s always done that. He still loves Steve, the way he always has. It’s just that now there are more aspects to that love.

***

Bucky comes back from a mission, and as soon as he’s done with the debrief he heads to Steve’s. He’s having a day off, and Bucky wants to see him, has promised to come and prove he’s all right after being away for a few days. He also desperately needs a shower, and Steve’s bathroom is vastly preferable to the locker room showers, not the least because Steve stocks up with the kind of shampoo Bucky likes. He always uses Steve’s body wash, he likes the familiar scent on his skin.

He’s fairly irritated still as he barges in through the door. He wasn’t alone on the mission; there were a few non-Avenger agents with him providing support, and they were all too skittish in his presence, making his nerves frayed. He’s talking a mile a minute as soon as he’s inside, Steve barely getting a hello in-between and after that he’s only listening to the prattle, clearly amused, while Bucky stoves his weapons in the cabinet by the door. Bucky’s venting, complaining really, but it helps him to get back to a more relaxed mood, and Steve clearly doesn’t mind.

He goes to the bathroom, strips off his tactical gear, and remembers one more thing he wanted to tell Steve. He hastily wraps a towel around his waist and goes back to the kitchen, because he doesn’t want to yell, even though there’s no need to worry about disturbing the neighbors, since the soundproofing between the apartments is excellent.

He’s almost turning back when he really looks at Steve, who’s frozen where he’s leaning on the counter, a glass of water halfway to his lips.

“Steve?”

Steve blinks, clearly gathering his thoughts. “Yeah, sorry, got distracted for a moment there. How about you go get that shower? I’ve got steaks ready to fry, so we can have dinner after, and you can wind down.”

It’s a great idea, and Bucky’s definitely hungry, so it’s only when he’s already in the shower that he really considers Steve’s odd behavior. He stood there, looking at Bucky, and it looked like his mouth had gone dry.

The conclusion as to why is fairly obvious, but Bucky almost wants to reject it, because it’s too convenient for him. It’s hard to believe that somehow the attraction now, after decades, would be mutual. He needs to make sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a whole another dilemma for you there, Buck.


	2. and the trembling

Sleep is hard to come by that night for Bucky, and while he manages to doze off here and there, he finally gives up when it’s closing four a.m. and gets up to put coffee on. It doesn’t have a real effect on him these days, but he still drinks it religiously because he can, now that there’s no one controlling what he eats and he has enough money to get any coffee he wants. In general he’s not too keen on luxury, but he doesn’t skimp on coffee. He even buys the coffee for Steve’s apartment, because while Steve likes good coffee, he doesn’t really make an effort to get it, just grabs the nearest package from the shelf if left to his own devices. It drives Bucky up the wall, because Steve is always on the lookout for quality when it comes to meat and vegetables, and it makes little sense for him not to do so with coffee as well. The only explanation Bucky has is that good quality food can be considered a necessity with their physique, but coffee isn’t. Still, it’s not like Steve has to worry about money, but apparently it’s a lingering quirk from their youth, and Bucky’s figured he can just get the coffee himself.

He drinks the first mug standing in the kitchen, and takes the second to the deck looking at the back yard. His small property reaches to the edge of the woods, and sometimes deer come out to the open in the early hours of morning. The birds are singing already, and the sky is cloudless, promising a beautiful day.

It’s funny how his thoughts want to circle around the topic that’s right there on the top of his mind, impossible to ignore. He can’t push it away, can’t even put it aside, but neither does he want to properly look into it. He recognizes the hesitation, and he knows where it comes from. He’s afraid that if he looks at it properly it might turn out to be a figment of his imagination, or it might turn out to be real. He’s not sure which option scares him more.

The thing is, his reawakened attraction toward Steve doesn’t affect their interactions. They’re friendly and close as ever, and Bucky is comfortable with it. Now, if it’s mutual and they decide to pursue it, things might become more complicated. They’d certainly step more carefully around each other for a while even in the best case scenario, and Bucky doesn’t really want that. He likes how easy it is to be with Steve, despite all that’s happened. It’s one of the few truly effortless things in his life, and he’s loathe to risk it. Then again, there’s a possibility of them becoming even closer, the possibility of eliminating the internal conflict Bucky’s attraction toward Steve causes, and to give them another good thing. It would be worth the awkward period.

He sits there until the sun is well up and the town around him has awoken properly. In the end, the conclusion he comes to is that it’s best to make sure first before deciding on the course of action. He needs to know if he interpreted correctly what he saw, and if so, what exactly it means. He needs to make sure the attraction is mutual, and figure out how solid it is. For himself, he’s already resigned to the fact that it’s not going anywhere, but when it comes to Steve, he’s at sea. If it appears that for Steve it’s just a momentary thing, physical draw that has flashed up and will dwindle later, he’s just going to stick to their routine and let it fade to background.

***

He thought it might be tricky to ascertain how Steve feels about him, but it turns out it’s not at all. Instead what surprises him is that apparently he’s been more lax around Steve than he expected. Even now, even among people he knows are completely safe he still keeps vigilant, he still habitually catalogs their expressions and their body language, keeps a mental map of how they feel about him. He’s good at it, was made to be so, supposed to take advantage of the tiniest weakness his targets presented. It’s a second nature to him, and he doesn’t even think about it, he just does it.

He used to do it with Steve too, looking at him, marking every little change, minute by minute, day by day. And yet, at some point since his return from Wakanda, he’s stopped. He trusts in Steve now fully, instinctually, he relies on the knowledge that Steve is his friend, would never betray him, and so he relaxes around Steve the way he can’t with anyone else. He can allow himself to not keep an eye on Steve all the time. It’s a delightful find, even when it’s rather ironic it’s precisely this trust that has caused him to miss the switch in Steve.

There has been a change, he can see it plain as day now that he’s actually looking for it. Steve hides it surprisingly well, even considering Bucky always knew that while Steve was and still is a piss poor liar, he was perfectly capable of hiding things. Now the new emotion rests comfortably mixed inside the friendliness of Steve’s demeanor, and there are only moments when Bucky catches a glimpse of it. He needs no more than that to be sure.

He knows it’s new. He remembers their interactions from before the war, from during it, and they were close, they were friends, there was the comfortable closeness, but no mutual physical attraction. He’s sure he would remember it, even with the holes in his memories. He’s also sure he would have seen it even then, despite the fact he wasn’t as perceptive as he is now. After his attraction toward Steve bloomed during the war he was hyper-aware of everything to do with Steve, and he wouldn’t have missed it if Steve had felt the same. Steve loved him back then, has loved him all through the decades, but up until now it has meant as a friend, brother, family. Now it seems that for both of them there could be yet another path for it.

It’s more difficult to know whether it’s some passing phase; indeed there’s no knowing for sure, but the subtle shift in Steve’s behavior, not to mention his character in general, convinces Bucky it could at the very least grow into something lasting if properly nurtured. Bucky can see the yearning in Steve during moments that are not only centered on some physical activity, but during general companionship. He also knows Steve never was one to light up to moment’s passion, but always aimed for something more solid.

Over ten days, Bucky watches Steve, and his certainty grows.

***

Now Bucky needs to decide what he wants to do about it, but that’s easier said than done. There’s a tiny part of him that honestly wishes he didn’t have to, that all of this would be gone and he’d be back in Brooklyn before the war, where things were tough but simple. It’s strange to him that this particular desire comes now, over such a thing, when he never has wished it due to what happened to him while HYDRA’s prisoner. He’s dealt with that, he’s moved through it, and it’ll be with him for the rest of his life, but he knows how to handle it. The potential change in their relationship causes him to feel uncertain enough to want to get away from it, because his friendship with Steve has always been solid, and now that it might balloon into something else he’s apprehensive.

He recognizes a lot the yearning is for the old Steve to come back, and he feels guilty about it. It wasn’t an easy life for Steve back then, and Bucky honestly doesn’t want him to be in pain like he was or neglected by people. What he wants is the simplicity between them, and he knows it’s not fair of him to wish for such a thing if it comes with pain for Steve.

There are a lot of things he regrets for Steve; that his health came in exchange for being thrown into war and all the traumas with it, but he knows that to this day Steve doesn’t have regrets when it comes to himself, he thinks it’s been worth all the pain it’s cost him. His regrets center on other people, a lot of them on Bucky, even though he’s doing better about those too these days. Bucky knows too, that if he were to express his longing for the old Steve, it would hurt Steve, because he’s still the same inside, in all the ways it matters, despite the shape of his body, and that’s the biggest reason Bucky pushes the nostalgia back. That’s why, when he really considers it, he doesn’t actually want it, even if there are aspects that would make things a lot easier.

All it really gets him are additional doubts; he wonders since he sometimes longs for the old Steve, is it mutual, does Steve ever want the old Bucky back? After all, he has not only gone through a physical change, but his mind has been completely overturned. Steve has never indicated yearning for the old Bucky; even when he has regrets for what he went through it’s all because he wants to spare Bucky pain, not that he’d want him back the way he is. They’ve even talked about it, and Steve has said that of course he’s different, but to Steve he’s still Bucky, still familiar despite changes, and it’s all he needs. Bucky gets it, it’s the same way he recognized Steve even when he didn’t remember him. He knows he probably shouldn’t doubt Steve, doesn’t want to, but it’s hard to push the worries completely away.

He can’t go back, doesn’t really want to, and he can’t push it away either. He considers asking for advice with his troubles, thinks of finding someone to talk things over with. Only problem is, everyone he trusts enough to go to with this topic is also Steve’s friend. Natasha and Sam would be his first two choices, but they’re both very close to Steve too, and if he were to talk to them it would feel like going behind Steve’s back, for all that it’s nothing malicious.

He’s stalling now, he knows that just mulling it inside his head won’t give him any significant insight.

***

While Bucky keeps struggling with how he wants to proceed, his relationship with Steve stays the same; thankfully it’s just as easy as it’s ever been. Bucky’s had time to get used to comfortably living with the attraction he’s so far never intended to act on, and even for Steve it seems it doesn’t make a difference, he’s still just as effortlessly close with Bucky as he’s ever been.

Their pattern of days stays the same; with them spending at least a part of every day they’re not on mission together. On weekdays it’s usually at Steve’s having dinner, watching some television, and on weekends Steve comes to Bucky’s place to get away from the compound for a while. Sometimes they take treks to the city, wander the streets they knew, find new places to explore.

There’s a scare for Bucky just a couple of weeks after he first saw the spark of desire in Steve’s eyes. He’s just returned from a mission, and since Steve is out too, he goes home instead of staying at the compound. He’s in the middle of a meal when his phone beeps with a message from Natasha, telling him to come to the medical wing at the compound. She’s been on the mission with Steve, their aim to clear out a HYDRA base, and Bucky’s heart goes cold with imagined scenarios.

Steve is indeed hurt, and although not life-threatening, getting shot through a shoulder is not a matter of dismissal even for him. Predictably Steve doesn’t really agree with the assessment, he’s insisting he’s well enough to go home now that he’s all stitched up when Bucky arrives.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him. “Can you sit on him or something to make sure he stays in observation for at least four hours? I want to go and take a shower.”

“What happened?” Bucky asks, Steve momentarily distracted by the nurses wrapping his wound. Natasha has a cut on her forehead, cleaned and closed with butterfly bandages, and she’s favoring her left hand, the wrist apparently sprained.

“It was supposed to be just an administrative base with minimal crew, but they actually had some experimentation going on, and we weren’t really expecting to have to protect a group of barely conscious prisoners.”

It makes sense to Bucky, Steve is mostly extremely good at protecting himself with the shield, he knows it because he’s had to try to figure out how to get around it, but having other people to keep safe means Steve would have prioritized them.

She leaves, and Bucky goes to Steve who smiles at seeing him, although it turns into a grimace as he shifts.

“Okay, you can’t even hide the pain, you’re definitely staying here for at least a few hours,” Bucky says, and Steve clearly considers arguing, but apparently decides he’s not about to be swayed, because he settles onto the bed.

“I would really like a shower, though.” Steve rubs at his temple, not really getting any of the dirt away, just smearing it.

“Yeah, well, try and not get shot next time.” Bucky knows he sounds more tense than he would like, his tone betraying the worry that filled him before he saw Steve was going to be okay, and Steve’s eyes soften as he catches Bucky’s hand in his.

“I’ll be fine, it’ll be all healed in few days.” He squeezes Bucky’s hand before letting it go.

They watch a movie from Steve’s list, eat, talk about their respective missions, and Bucky manages to distract Steve well enough that he doesn’t even think of leaving until five hours later when the doctor on shift comes to release him. Bucky considers his time well spent.

***

Three days later all that’s left of the wound is a red scar on Steve’s shoulder, and stiff muscles on his back. Healing tends to do that for him, and after watching him shift around all through dinner, Bucky offers to massage the kinks out. It comes by reflex, after all Steve has done the same for him often enough, the area around his left shoulder being prone to tightness.

Steve readily agrees, and Bucky realizes his mistake only when Steve unceremoniously strips off his t-shirt and suggests they go to his bedroom so it’ll be easier to relax. Bucky follows, dreading just a bit, because while he wants to help Steve feel better, he’s about to have to put his hands all over him, and considering the way he’s lately been thinking about Steve, that seems like an impending disaster. He feels it even more keenly when he’s hovering over Steve, knees bracketing his hips, pouring massage oil onto his back. 

There’s nothing for it though, he’s not about to rescind his offer, and he’s already stalling, so he tells himself to concentrate on the essential things and starts kneading on Steve’s muscles. He definitely should not think how there is a faintest dusting of freckles dotting Steve’s shoulders, or how the muscles on his back taper toward his tiny waist. Bucky tells himself to focus a bit more firmly.

It goes well really, Bucky works on the knots one after another, Steve occasionally makes tiny pleased sounds but otherwise seems to be almost falling asleep, and while Bucky is definitely aroused, it’s somehow calming too, the simple act of taking care of Steve. It’s still one of the most familiar things he knows.

After three quarters of an hour Steve is fully relaxed, and Bucky moves away but not far, flopping down onto his back on the other half of the bed. Steve turns his head toward him and opens his eyes. There’s a flush on his cheeks, and it’s obvious really, that it’s due to an edge of arousal he feels, something that might just light up if given half a chance.

It would be so easy, Bucky thinks, to move, to tug Steve toward him into a kiss, to shed their clothes, to chase after release. They’re only one move away from it, and he knows how it would happen; it would be easy, it would feel good, and afterward they’d continue being as close as they’ve ever been, only they’d add having sex into the pattern. It would be wonderful, uncomplicated, but it’s not exactly what Bucky wants.

Thing is, he knows Steve, knows there is a romantic soul in him, and if they’re going to do this, Bucky doesn’t want to go at it by halves. Steve deserves more than just them going for it in the easy way, starting it in the heat of a moment. Steve deserves everything, and Bucky finally admits to himself he wants to be the one to give it to him. He wants to make an effort, a visible one, he wants atmospheric dinners and walks holding hands, kissing just for its own sake, all of the things he knows Steve would like.

Hence, he doesn’t move, just lies there smiling at Steve, enjoying the warmth crackling in the air between the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's plan of action; romance the hell out of Steve.


	3. and nerves more

Problems upon problems, Bucky is inclined to think, although at the same time he wants to scoff at himself because really, his problems now are so insignificant compared to what he’s been through that they barely merit a mention. On the other hand, that he’s able to perceive them as problems is in and on itself a sign of progress, because it means that his life in general has taken a good turn.

The thing he’s wrestling with now unsurprisingly has to do with Steve again. He’d thought it would get easier after he’d determined whether the attraction indeed was mutual, and what he wanted to do about it. He now knows both of those things, and there’s yet another hurdle to cross that he failed to see beforehand. Namely, how exactly is he going to go about it? It’s easy to think to himself he wants to romance the hell out of Steve, but when he considers the actual steps he’ll have to take toward it, it all feels hopelessly stilted and inauthentic.

He knows he used to be good at this sort of thing, back before the war. He used to know what to say, what to do to make girls’ hearts beat faster, to get them to let him kiss them and sometimes even more than that. He was good at it, and even when some of it would be applicable right now, it doesn’t feel right, because back then it never meant anything. Or more precisely, it was a means to an end, to gain physical pleasure. It was selfish, and it feels wrong that the same tactics might help him now that it means everything, when he wants it to be good for Steve, for both of them. Thing is, it was a game then, not serious, and he thinks the girls he went with knew it too. Now it’s all real, and Bucky feels paralyzed about it.

Still, maybe it’s all about the intention, not the specific actions. After all, doesn’t an old proverb say that the gift doesn’t matter, only the intent. Maybe it’s the same with this. All the trappings are to show he cares, it’s the message he must send that matters.

Another hurdle is that it all just feels so ridiculous in his head, because he’s the Winter Soldier, feared across the world, and that doesn’t exactly go together with trying to woo someone. A bouquet of flowers in a metal hand? It feels too jarring a contrast in his head.

That particular image sticks, enough that he has to stop thinking about it all, it’s too confusing. What he does instead is take a jog to the compound, head for the training rooms, and proceed to pummel a punching bag until he’s exhausted enough he feels marginally calmer.

“Steve used to do that as well,” Natasha says.

Bucky noticed her slipping in about half an hour earlier, but didn’t say anything since she didn’t either. She’s sitting on the mats in a comfortable yoga position. Bucky doesn’t really know where she picked it up, he hasn’t asked, but they sometimes talk like this, in the training rooms, while seated and breathing deep in unison. He notes the light at the door indicates the room is reserved, meaning no one will come in. He goes and takes a seat in front of her, unrolling the tape off his right hand.

“Back in the early months after he was unfrozen, Steve spent a lot of time in the gym,” she clarifies. “He was working on his demons then, and I’m guessing you’re too. Although I thought you’ve got most of them under control.”

“I do,” Bucky says, and pauses for a moment. He decides to ask for help after all, he comes to a decision it’s not a betrayal of Steve, because all he’s really confiding are things to do with himself. He knows she more than anyone else will understand, will be able to give him advice that’s actually useful. “It’s just, I want to do something that’s very human, just so normal, and I run into the thought of how ridiculous it is in contrast of what I am.”

She looks at him for a moment, considering. “You’ll probably have those thoughts often enough in years to come. Sometimes I go to a coffee shop and when I wait for my order it suddenly strikes me how surreal this all is. It happens. But trust me, you are a human, and you probably do things that are just as mundane already, you just haven’t gotten stuck at them.”

Bucky knows his glance at her is skeptical from the way she grins at him. “Okay, remember the last mission we were on together? When we were done you sat on the steps to the HYDRA base and fed half of your energy bar to that stray dog.”

“It was starving, you could see its ribs.”

“I know, I’m not criticizing you. What I mean is, it was adorable, and definitely not something the Winter Soldier would do. So go ahead, be human, it’s no more ridiculous on you than anyone else.”

She has a point, and Bucky feels lighter with it, but they’re not exactly in the habit of thanking each other for advice, any more than they would for help on battlefield. “Don’t call me adorable.”

“Yeeeah.” She stretches the word in a way that makes Bucky immediately dread what’s to follow. “I definitely can, on account that Steve took a photo of that moment, put it on his lockscreen, and he gives it that goofy smile of his every time he needs to look at his phone.”

Bucky doesn’t quite blush at it, but he definitely does make a hasty retreat to the showers. He goes to the communal space this time; he doesn’t think he could quite handle possibly running into Steve, now that there’s a thread of warmth curling in his stomach at the thought of Steve actually having done what Natasha told him about. He also wonders for a moment if she’s cottoned on to his attraction, only to lean against the tiles, because really, of course she knows. He knows he hasn’t been very subtle about it, definitely not enough to hide it from her.

He’s got shampoo in his hair when, as his luck would have it, Steve walks in completely naked, lighting up when he sees Bucky. Bucky steadfastly keeps his gaze at the relatively safe zone of Steve’s face.

“Why are you here? You’ve got your own shower in the building,” Bucky says.

“Might ask the same from you, I know you’re more often at my place than here,” Steve fires back, which is completely fair. “We were doing the water rescue practice, and I’d rather not take all the mud back to my place.”

Bucky glances down enough to confirm that Steve definitely has a point, trying to not look at anything else, despite how Steve just stands there turned toward him while he’s talking, not making a move to clean himself. It’s almost as if Steve were inviting him to look, which is not the most ridiculous interpretation, considering how Bucky’s already found out the attraction is mutual.

He just grins at Steve, keeping his gaze up, but he also knows he needs to do something fairly soon. He wants to go slow about it, but he can’t take it so slow Steve is going to interpret it as a lack of interest. It would be an easy misunderstanding to clear, but he doesn’t want to cause even the smallest hint of disquiet to Steve if he can help it. 

***

Bucky decides taking it slow means easing into it. It’s simpler for him that way, starting with things that are not too far away from generally friendly things to do, and it allows him to get over the hurdle of just doing something. In theory, it should get easier after that, but by now he knows his head has a tendency to spot trouble where there necessarily isn’t any, so he’s not holding his breath expecting this time will be different.

The first thing he chooses to do is to go to the cafeteria and get Steve, and himself, since he’s there, a chocolate mocha with a lot of whipped cream. He knows Steve likes all the fancy coffees, the more calories the better, but he also most of the time doesn’t think to go and get them, he just grabs whatever coffee is nearest and easiest. The coffee shop at the corner of the cafeteria is basically a Starbucks, except lacking the branding, and Bucky bets it does roaring trade despite the fact the customer pool is significantly smaller than those in the city have. The addiction to complicated coffees in the building is scary.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha have been running training simulations, and Bucky meets them at the door when they’re leaving. Steve is lagging behind, making notes on his tablet. Sam makes a grabby hand at the cups in Bucky’s hands.

“Barnes, did you bring me coffee? I might start liking you, even.”

“Not you, Steve.” Bucky pulls the untouched cup closer to himself.

“You’ve got two though.”

“I already drank from the other, get your own.”

Sam gives him the most exaggerated pout he has, but Bucky ignores him for Steve, who’s finally finished and greets Bucky with a smile. Bucky gives the coffee to Steve, very deliberately letting their fingers brush together during the handover. Steve thanks him, and it’s almost as if he didn’t notice anything, except for the slightest flush that blooms on the apples of his cheeks.

As they turn to head back to the residential area, Natasha gives Bucky the slightest smile which on anyone else would probably be a very pronounced waggle of eyebrows. She then lets Sam drag her to the cafeteria, calling, “Have a nice evening,” over her shoulder.

Bucky would glare after her for the insinuation, since she probably knows he’s not planning to just jump at Steve, but he forgets to do so, because Steve’s look after his friends is so fond. It’s no secret he’s delighted the best friends he’s gained in the future are definitely in the process of getting together, even when they steadfastly refuse to talk about it. Bucky could use it to needle Natasha just to get back at her, but he hasn’t yet, he saves it for a better occasion.

They spend the evening on the patio adjacent to Steve’s living room, enjoying the sun, drinking their coffees followed by a few beers, and talking. It would be like any other night, except they sit closer together than they usually do.

***

Bucky’s sent on a mission a few days later, to shadow a presumed HYDRA operative, and if needed render him harmless. Turns out the man is indeed HYDRA, and when he’s sure Bucky wraps a neat parcel of him and calls for retrieval. He’s waiting for his own transport when he spots a beautiful set of drawing pencils in a wooden case at the window of an art shop. He doesn’t even stop to think before going in. He picks up a couple of sketchbooks too, with hard cover and nice glossy paper.

Steve is making dinner when Bucky comes in, the pasta sauce simmering in the pot, scent of herbs wafting in the air. There’s definitely more than even a super soldier can eat alone.

“Are you having guests?” Bucky asks.

Steve side-eyes him. “You think I wouldn’t know your schedule? If you step right along you have time for a shower before this is ready.”

Bucky goes, but he still has to say, “I might have gone straight home after we landed.”

“Yeah, like you’ve done, oh wait, never.”

Steve has a point, and he knows it too, grinning at him, so Bucky just shakes his head and goes to the bathroom. Steve has stocked up, there’s a new bottle of his preferred shampoo next to the almost empty one. It’s just another of the thoughtful little things Steve keeps doing for him, has done ever since Bucky allowed himself back into his life. He always interpreted them as Steve worrying over him, but now he wonders if they’ve always been a bit more than just that, if he’s only now seeing the possibility. Whatever it is, he means to make sure Steve understands he is definitely interested.

The dinner is delicious. Steve isn’t a fancy cook, by any means, but he’s capable, keen to have more control on what he’s eating since he needs so many calories. He sticks to good ingredients, and often makes fairly simple, hearty dishes. He likes pasta dishes and stir-frys, with their bold flavors and relatively simple process.

After dinner Bucky gives Steve the pencils and sketchbooks, quipping, “Saw them and thought of you.” He grins, lightening it up a bit, even when he absolutely means it.

Steve is obviously pleased, smiling and flushing more crimson at Bucky’s words, and Bucky finds his heart beating faster at the sight of it. He wants to pull Steve closer, doesn’t even know exactly what he wants to do, he just wants. He wants this, wants Steve, and he has to curl his fingers into a fist to not reach out to pull Steve in. It’s not yet time for that.

Instead he shifts a bit closer on the couch, bumps Steve with his elbow, and after a lengthy discussion they settle to watch Pacific Rim. It was mentioned during the latest movie night, but Rhodey vetoed it, saying Tony is always insufferable when watching anything with robots, which Bucky readily believes. They watch it now, and after the first quarter of an hour they’re fully leaning on each other on the couch.

***

Bucky spends a day at the range, testing a few new rifles very thoroughly. He’s satisfied with the work he’s done, likes the new guns and the potential in them, but at the end of the day he’s feeling very stiff around his shoulders. He briefly wonders if it ever happened to him while he was under HYDRA’s power, or if he just didn’t care, didn’t register the pain like he does now. It’s a depressing thought, and he pushes it away.

After dinner Steve beckons him to the couch, and unceremoniously sets a cushion on the floor in front of himself. Bucky sits down on it without protesting, because it’s not like he wants to be in pain, and Steve really is good at this. He tugs his shirt off, and Steve’s hands are immediately on his skin, warm as they always are, because Steve naturally runs just a bit hotter than he does.

Steve kneads on the knots at his shoulders, moving methodically from one to another. There’s a baseball game on television, but Bucky doesn’t care about either of the teams, so he doesn’t pay attention to it, and instead lets his mind float. He surfaces some time later, the tightness gone, and Steve mostly just petting him, smoothing his hands over the muscles without any real pressure.

Bucky turns on the cushion, and rests his cheek on the inside of Steve’s knee. Steve’s hand comes to the back of his head with the movement, but he doesn’t move it away. It’s just a bit suggestive position, Bucky’s well aware of it, even when he keeps his gaze up to Steve’s face, happy to see he’s again flushing, the red deepening under Bucky’s gaze.

“Thank you,” Bucky says.

Steve apparently almost automatically answers, “Any time.” 

They stay like that, Steve’s fingers in his hair, a smile tugging at the corner of Bucky’s mouth, and he feels satisfied, because he’s sure now that Steve gets where this is going, and furthermore, is allowing him to lead them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No small part of the writing process was me laughing at Bucky’s various predicaments, and this chapter was no exception. My subconsciousness was hard at work too, when I wrote Bucky escaping into the shower, the sudden inspiration was to heap a bit more coals on his head and put Steve in the scene with him.


	4. i like to feel the spine

Little gestures are all well and good, but this thing with Steve must progress, or they’re left in the weird limbo of wondering about what exactly they are to each other. Sometimes Bucky considers what he should call what they’re doing. Is it dating, when they haven’t actually talked about it? He also thinks of words like courting and wooing, but they feel old-fashioned, not to mention he’s mostly certain Steve is a sure thing, so the stakes are different. Although, courting means proving interest over time, so maybe it’s a word that fits. Bucky still thinks it’s old-fashioned.

Whatever the correct word, it doesn’t change the fact he definitely intends to step up his game to make his interests clear. He’s going to talk about it with Steve, wants the cards on the table, but he needs a proper setting. He considers taking Steve out for a dinner, but it feels too exposed to be in a restaurant where other people very likely would recognize them. So much of their lives happen publicly, that Bucky wants this to be at least relatively private for now, when it’s still only a budding thing. He knows it’s inevitable there’ll be gossip among the Avengers sooner rather than later, but he’d like to not have it spread all over the world now that they’re finding their footing with it.

He settles on inviting Steve for a dinner at his house instead, it’s a common enough occurrence that it’ll be comfortable, and he can dress it up the way he likes, make a bit more effort. This intent finds him in a liquor store, standing in front of the wine shelf, not knowing at all where to start. He hasn’t had much occasion to get to know wine, his memories are mostly of drinking some red from bottles without labels in southern France in summer 1944. They’d found them in the cellar of an empty manor house they’d taken shelter in, and since they’d just survived by the breadth of a hair, they’d made a significant dent into the stores.

Bucky even then hadn’t gotten as drunk as he should have, considering the amount of wine he had, but he was very careful to not show it, had let himself enjoy the moment, sag into the warmth of Steve’s body. He still remembers Steve’s amused laughter in his ear, the way Steve had wrapped his arm around him, probably thinking he needed some steadying. Bucky had been all too happy to pretend it was true.

“Barnes? What are you doing here?” It’s Sam, rousing him from his memories.

“Trying to choose a wine for a dinner with Steve, except I know nothing about wine.” Bucky is a bit surprised at himself that he just says it.

“That sounds more fancy that your usual — oh.” Sam’s eyes go wide, enough that Bucky would laugh if his skin wasn’t feeling like it was too tight. Sam stares at him for a moment, obviously rerouting his thoughts. “Well then. Much as I’d like to make fun of you, Steve is my friend, so I’ll help you instead. So, what are you making?”

Bucky prides himself of being smart and flexible, able to adapt to any situation, but he still feels like he’s half a step behind. “What?”

“For dinner. Need to know what you’re going to cook to pick up the wine.” Sam looks very serious, and Bucky suddenly remembers that while he and Steve are mostly utility cooks, Sam is more capable.

“Steak.” Bucky shrugs. “I know how to fry it to perfection, and don’t want to take chances.”

“Good strategy.” Sam walks a few steps down the aisle, and picks out a bottle. “Here, this pinot noir should do nicely.”

Bucky takes it, feeling grateful that for all that they mostly keep up appearances of not liking each other, Sam is a true friend. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, when it’s to do with Steve. Oh, and don’t make a salad, the vinegar kills the wine. Roast some vegetables instead.”

“Duly noted.”

Bucky heads to the checkout, leaving Sam to peruse the wine shelves further. He’s probably got dinner preparations on the way as well.

***

Somehow Bucky manages the dinner preparations just in the schedule he wants, without having to hurry. He has vegetables and potatoes roasting in the oven, the steaks out on the counter waiting to be put in the pan, table set, wine opened, and candles lit when the doorbell rings.

Out of habit he looks at the door camera feed on the security screen in kitchen before going to open it. Steve looks slightly fidgety, and what’s more, he’s definitely dressed up. Nothing too formal, but he has a button-up shirt instead of his usual t-shirt, and jeans that are definitely from the pile Steve considers fancy rather than comfortable. He’s right about it too, the way they accent his slim hips is very flattering. It seems Steve definitely has cottoned on the signals, even when the invitation to dinner was just the usual one, Bucky asking if he was free, and telling no when Steve asked if he should bring something.

Bucky too dressed up a bit, with nice pants that hug his thighs and a button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up to elbows. He’d debated on it, because it fits his table setting to dress up, but if Steve had come completely casual it might have made it weird. He did have a back up plan to switch his shirt for a more casual one, but no need for that now.

He opens the door, and Steve takes a once over of him and obviously relaxes. He too was probably second guessing, maybe wondering if he was reading the situation correctly. All the more reason for them to actually talk about it tonight, although Bucky is going to have them eat first. He can’t help noticing Steve’s gaze lingers definitely longer than necessary on his legs, and he rather wants to preen.

Steve toes his shoes off and Bucky guides him toward kitchen, hand lightly at the small of his back. It’s not a necessary gesture; after all Steve knows his house inside out, but it definitely is what he wants, the physical connection a perfect way to shift things into more intimate direction. Steve pauses at the counter, at the spot where he usually lingers if Bucky’s cooking while they talk, and Bucky goes to get the wine, letting his hand brush along Steve’s waist as he heads away. He looks at Steve from the corner of his eye as he pours the wine, seeing him take everything in.

Bucky’s always known Steve is a blusher, his fair skin accentuating the tendency, and now too, even in the low light of Bucky’s kitchen it’s clear his cheeks are reddening. Bucky has wondered why he never paid more attention to it, because the way it shifts is fascinating, a good indicator on his mental state at times. Maybe he always avoided looking at Steve like that before, definitely didn’t do so during the war when he was trying to push his attraction away. Now that he’s embraced it and decided to pursue it, he definitely keeps an eye on the shifting shades of pink.

Even with the wine, which is very good, Sam knew what he was talking about, and the candles, there is familiarity too in the setting, and it’s deliberate, because Bucky wants them to be comfortable most of all. He gives Steve a glass, asks about his day, and in no time they’re talking just as they always do. Bucky fries the steaks while Steve leans on the counter, the warmth of smile in his eyes. It was obvious to Bucky Steve was nervous when he came in, same as he was, but it has now fallen away. There is the underlying awareness that they are moving toward something new, that their relationship is shifting, but his belief that there’s nothing to worry about stays strong. After all, they’ve changed before, come through rough patches, but they still fit together, and Bucky is sure they always will.

When the food is done Steve helps him with bringing it to the table, Bucky puts music on low in the background, and they dig in. Everything is done to perfection, and when Steve compliments him on it, he quips he knows his limits. Which is true, steaks and roast vegetables are simple enough, and the Internet has more than enough advice on which herbs to use. They linger in the table when they’re done, drinking the last glasses of the wine. Bucky has made dessert as well, but before he brings it out inspiration strikes him when the song in the background changes.

“Did you ever learn how to dance?” he asks Steve.

“I got some lessons, soon after the Battle of New York. There were some charity dinners they wanted me to participate in. I never much cared for it, though.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, like that.” Bucky gets up and extends his hand to Steve. “Care to have another try?”

Steve hesitates just a moment, looking at him as if trying to figure out the angle, still maybe unsure of where they’re going. It’s okay, Bucky can be patient, and it’s not like he didn’t expect the uncertainty. He well knows Steve never had luck when it came to romance, and it’s likely to make anyone hesitant. In the end Steve puts his hand in Bucky’s and lets himself be pulled to the middle of the floor.

There’s not too much open space, but Bucky doesn’t aim for anything fancy. He takes Steve’s right hand into his left and wraps the other around his waist, pulling him close. Certainly closer than was proper in the dance halls of their youth, but this is his home, and a new millennium. Steve’s left hand comes to rest on his shoulder, drifting from there to the back of his neck as they press closer, and they turn slowly around, swaying in time to the music. They’re close enough that Bucky can feel Steve’s heart beating just a bit faster than normal, but otherwise he’s relaxed, looking easily into Bucky’s eyes, even though he’s clearly still searching for something.

“What are we doing, Buck?” Steve asks as the song switches to another.

“I would have thought it’s obvious, we’re dancing.”

“Bucky.” Steve’s tone is a bit admonishing, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you think we’re doing?”

The question escapes Bucky’s mouth, an almost automatic response along the lines of their usual banter, but he knows too, that he’s dodging. Despite the resolution that they talk tonight, it’s not so easy, and he’s stalling now, even when he wants it all in the open.

Steve tilts his head, still looking at Bucky. “We are, I don’t know, I’m not sure what the word is. But,” he says and flushes brighter again, “it feels right.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Bucky pulls Steve even closer.

“What do you want, Bucky?”

The question is completely serious, and there’s only one way it can be answered, by laying it all out.

“Everything. Whatever you want to give me.”

Steve smile is bright then, his hand tightening in Bucky’s just for a moment. “I want everything too.”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to move closer still, to press his mouth on Steve’s. Steve angles his head so that their noses don’t bump together, and it’s perfect, light and easy. It’s a very chaste kiss, closed-mouthed and tender. Bucky is adamant on going slow, and he’s sure it’s what Steve wants as well, to resist the heated moments a bit for now and really look at where they’re going. It’s delightful too, to let the anticipation grow inside, to let new bits of happiness gradually in, like pearls strung together.

At the end of the song Bucky pulls away just a bit, the smile on his lips reflected on Steve’s, and says, “I’ve got cheesecake.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “You’ve baked?”

He looks skeptical, and it’s fair, considering Bucky so far hasn’t really made forays into baking.

“It’s the no-bake kind, easy. The recipe said even a beginner would be fine.”

They eat the cake on the couch, crowded together, and it is good, but Bucky likes the closeness a lot more. When they’re done he puts both their plates onto the coffee table and pulls Steve closer, wraps an arm around his shoulders. Steve comes easily, settling so that his head is resting on Bucky’s shoulder, and it’s very familiar, because they used to sit like this sometimes before the war when Steve was sick and couldn’t lie down for fear of his lungs congesting. Now there’s no fear of that, and Steve is much bigger, but he still fits under Bucky’s arm. He has sometimes missed Steve being smaller, and always felt guilty about it, but he’s starting to think he’s getting over it. Maybe it was the simple closeness he missed rather than Steve’s shape, and they’re getting back to it now that the physical attraction no longer scares him.

They talk a bit, but mostly they just sit there, Bucky’s arm around Steve, his free hand held between Steve’s. The night falls, and even with everything perfect, they start to yawn eventually.

“I should go,” Steve says, regretful but sure, and it cements for Bucky the certainty that Steve too wants to avoid rush with the shift in their relationship.

“I’ll walk you home,” Bucky says as they get to their feet and head for the front door.

“I’m not one of your girls from before, you don’t have to stick to the proper patterns,” Steve says, but it’s completely amused.

Bucky looks at him, serious, because this is the most important truth he knows. “No, that’s true. Back then it never meant anything. This does.”

Steve nods at him, just as serious, understanding.

They walk together the short distance. They don’t touch, it doesn’t look any different from all the other times they’ve walked together, for all that everything is different now. There’s the quiet understanding that they’re keeping this private for now, it’s too raw and new to be let out in the open.

Instead of going through the main doors they take the back gate and cross across the lawn to Steve’s patio door, where the electric lock turns green at his touch. There’s no one around, and they’re in the shadow of the building, so when Steve stops at the threshold Bucky steps closer, and Steve pulls him into a kiss. It’s brief, just as chaste as all the ones they shared back at their house, but there’s promise in it, anticipation of things to come.

Bucky whistles to himself when he walks back home, and when he thinks about it, he can’t remember the last time he was in the mood to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, they actually talked about it. And kissed, more importantly.


	5. i like kissing this and that of you

Bucky’s squinting at the laptop screen in one of the communal working spaces, reading his report through to make sure it’s at least something like English, when Steve sits down next to him, handing him a mug of coffee. It’s perfectly hot and sweet, the way Bucky drinks it most of the time, and he takes a sip of it before sending his report, deciding it’s good enough.

“Did you tell Nat?” Steve asks, his voice low.

They’re practically alone, there’s a trio of technical analysts in the other corner of the room, arguing among themselves on what the data they have indicates. They probably won’t notice anything else, but Bucky still keeps his voice low same as Steve did. “Come on Steve, not like I had to. Why, did she say something?”

“Nothing much, just made it known she knows. Also apparently the word we should use is courting, that’s what she said we’re doing.” Steve grins when Bucky groans.

“It’s so old-fashioned, though.”

“I told her, but you can probably guess what she said to that.”

“Yeah, that it suits us to the tee.”

Steve looks at him in a way that tells Bucky he’d kiss him if they were alone. Instead, Steve bumps his shoulder with his forehead, a gesture that Bucky finds oddly endearing, leaving him capable of nothing more than smiling goofily as Steve heads back to work.

***

Bucky decides that since he’s courting, he might as well go all out, so the next logical step is flowers, for all that he still thinks they don’t really go together with metal hands. Maybe it should have been an earlier step, certainly before the kissing, but now is as good a time as any. After all, it’s not like the order they’re following is that conventional anyway, considering they’ve loved each other enough to be completely committed to each other for decades, even when the commitment used to be shaped differently.

The flower shop isn’t quite as intimidating as the wine shelf, but it’s not simple either, with dozens of different flowers and colors, and the difficulty of choice hits him again. He figures he could get some roses, they’re a classic choice after all, and never wrong, but he notices some red and white gladioli, and decides to go with them instead. Something about them feels right.

The florist ties a neat bouquet out of them, and grins at him when he pays. “They’re the flowers of gladiators, they used to wear them to keep them safe, help them win.”

Bucky wants to laugh, his intuition was a bit too spot on there. They are beautiful though, even without thinking of their meaning.

As luck would have it, Bucky manages to navigate through the compound that night without anyone seeing him. Not counting FRIDAY, but he’s fairly sure the AI can be trusted for discretion. There still isn’t any gossip, as far as he knows, and he’s sure Natasha would have told him if there was. If he were seen walking around with flowers it would certainly change.

He lets himself into Steve’s apartment, the locks have been programmed to accept him at all times. There is a small suitcase by the door, Steve has just arrived from a security conference. Steve himself comes from his bedroom, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower. It’s probably a good thing Bucky didn’t arrive ten minutes earlier; being confronted by a barely dressed Steve would try his resolve to take it slow.

Steve takes the flowers, obviously pleased by the gesture, and pulls Bucky in for a kiss. Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s waist, and rubs thumbs over the thin fabric of the shirt. Steve lays the flowers down on the counter to avoid them being crushed before wrapping his arms properly around Bucky and resting his head on his shoulder. It’s obvious Steve is tired, mentally exhausted, the way he usually is when he’s had to play politics, and Bucky is happy to hold him and let him rest for a moment.

“You know,” Steve says, “I kind of used to figure I’d be the one doing these kinds of things.”

“Doing what?” Bucky asks, momentarily confused.

“Bringing flowers, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” It makes sense, it’s hard to let go of the patterns ingrained in them from their youth, about the roles in relationships, and what one is supposed to do and expect. “You still can. We both can, not like there are rules about it, really.”

“Thank God for that.”

It comes with such palpable relief that Bucky rubs a bit at Steve’s back, soothing, and he agrees too. For all that has happened, he’s grateful that this at least is easier now. Even though they’re keeping their relationship mostly private for now, it’s not because they think their friends wouldn’t understand or approve, nor is it a reason to be arrested or worse. 

“Lord’s name,” Bucky says, mostly to break the tension, and it works, Steve laughs and pokes him on the side.

“I do like it though, you bringing me flowers. All of that.”

Steve’s head is still resting on his shoulder, and when Bucky tips his to bring their cheeks together, he can feel the heat on Steve’s skin, unmistakable sign of blush. He presses a kiss there, awkward as it is with not much space.

“I like to do it too.” Something Steve said occurs to him then. “What do you mean, you used to think you’d be the one bringing flowers? You don’t anymore?”

“Well, after I woke up here, I tried at first to live a normal life. In time I got over Peggy enough to think I might try to find someone else. I didn’t want to be alone, that I did know. It just never really worked out, never felt right. So in the end, I stopped trying, it kind of slipped from my mind. Stopped missing it. Until now.”

Bucky holds Steve harder. He wants to say something suitable, but there are no words that feel right to him now. Instead, he shifts them, tips Steve’s head up to kiss him, and it immediately lights them up. Steve’s mouth opens under his, letting him in for the first time, and it’s not like Bucky will decline the invitation. He presses closer, his whole body flush against Steve’s, and Steve’s hand comes to cradle his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

They spend a long moment kissing, and Bucky is exhilarated by it, eager to explore Steve’s mouth, to suck his tongue in, nibble at his lower lip, tease out the little gasps from him. He comes up for air, but only for a moment, and trails kisses along the edge of Steve’s jaw, presses a sucking one at the corner, pulls the earlobe in his mouth, and from there moves down his neck, feeling the tendon under his mouth tightening.

Bucky pauses there, his lips on Steve’s skin. Steve is holding him tight, has tipped his head back to allow him access, and Bucky can feel him quivering in his arms, the smallest of trembles shaking him. With just a little push they’d be in a state where it would be impossible to stop, the arousal coursing in their veins would take over, and Bucky wants it, wants so much. But he can wait for a bit longer, and so he pulls back, presses another kiss on the pulse point on Steve’s neck before reclaiming his lips. The kiss now is lighter, easier, the arousal winding down, and Steve’s hand in his hair gentles its hold.

They separate, smiling, happy, and Steve pulls him to couch where they curl up together. They switch the television on, settling for the movie that’s currently showing, some kind of a comedy, but neither of them pays much attention, they’re just happy to lie there together. A quarter of an hour later Bucky notes Steve isn’t watching at all, he has his eyes closed in fact, although he’s not sleeping.

Bucky tips his head to rest against Steve’s, runs his hand up and down his back. He doesn’t feel short on anything, even though he pulled back earlier. This feels right for them now, and he’d rather be too careful with this rather than push too much.

***

Their next free day, always coming with a provision of turning into a work day in the case of a supervillain attack, is bright and sunny, with the first hint of crispness of fall in the air. Bucky is restless, it feels like there is a charge in the air, but Steve seems oblivious of it, the way he’s lounging on his couch, texting to someone.

“Let’s take a walk,” Bucky says when it becomes too much, and throws his book onto the table.

“Okay, where to?”

“No, just, you know, walk.”

Steve straightens up, looking confused. “Well, sure. It’s just not something that we usually do.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m feeling restless.”

Steve grins then. “Usually when you’re restless you propose going a few rounds in the training room, but sure. Let’s. It’s nice out too.”

They pull on what Steve jokingly calls their casual disguises; clothes that are a bit more modern, with a different cut from what they usually wear, and hence help them blend in among people, because they don’t look the way they usually do when wearing civilian clothes. Add hats and sunglasses, both reasonable considering how sunny it is, and Bucky bets most people wouldn’t recognize them.

They head out through the back and into the forest, walking on the trails they know well, because they often run there. There are some other people out and about, not too many, and no one pays any attention to them.

It’s easier here, out of the house where Bucky can’t help but be conscious of potential, of the trajectories of their relationship, of where they’re going, where sometimes it feels like there’s a momentum pulling them faster than he wants to go, faster than he thinks they’re ready. Now, even though the walking doesn’t count for an exercise by a long shot, it’s still movement, they’re doing something, and it calms him down.

It’s nice too, just to wander at a leisurely pace, not going anywhere on purpose but just moving, talking with each other. They keep to the wider tracks where they can walk side by side, and sometimes their hands brush together.

They come to a small clearing, and Steve takes off his hat while he squints up to the sky, his hair flashing golden under the sun. It strikes Bucky then that at some point, without him realizing it, all the ways he loves Steve have melded into one whole. For a long time there was the oldest kind of love, one that designated Steve as forever the most important person to him, and later came the physical attraction that caused conflict for him, and sometimes felt almost at odds with the older love. It was like that even here in the future, when Bucky again became conscious of all the different ways he was drawn toward Steve. Now though, it’s changed. He loves Steve as he always has, only things have been added to it, and it all fits together, nothing is at odds.

He stops right on his tracks, and there must be something showing on his face, because when Steve turns to look back at him, a frown immediately appears between his brows.

“Buck?”

“I love you,” he says, because there isn’t anything else he can right then, and it feels suddenly strange that he never has said it before, when it’s been the steadiest lasting truth of his life.

Steve freezes for half a second, then takes a quick step right to him and takes his face between warm hands, kissing him right there under the blue sky. Afterward he moves back only a breadth of a hair, enough that Bucky can look at him.

“I love you too.”

Bucky knew it, of course he did, and yet it’s momentous to hear the words spoken out loud, and he gets why they spurred Steve to kiss him here when they so far have kept things on a friendly level when out in public. Not that anyone saw them, there’s no one in the woods nearby, but Bucky knows it still needed a catalyst to happen.

They stand there for a moment more, before Bucky nudges them to continue on their walk. This time, when they turn to go Steve reaches for his hand, and Bucky takes it, holding tight as they walk back toward his house.

***

Later that day, back at Bucky’s, they’re comfortably resting on the couch, leaning on each other.

“Since when did you—?” Steve asks, the question cut short, but Bucky knows what he means anyway.

He’s quiet for a moment, then decides he might as well come clean about the strangeness, about how conflicted he was.

“It’s a bit, let’s say it happened gradually.” Steve hums, encouraging him to continue. “I mean, on one hand, I guess I don’t know, it feels like you always were the most important person to me. And then—” He pauses, gathering his words. “I think you’ll want to interrupt me, but let me tell you all of it first?”

“Okay, I’ll try anyway.” Steve grins, and it’s probably most Bucky can expect, after all Steve does have a tendency to jump right into things.

“You see, it changed after you came to find me in Austria. That’s when I first felt the physical attraction. And it was hard, I tried to push it back, because what was I, I cared about you and yet I was like the others, that it mattered that you looked different?” Steve draws a breath but keeps silent when Bucky glances at him, and allows him to continue. “That’s how I felt anyway. And then here, when I finally started to remember, when I was able to remember, I thought I wouldn’t say anything, but it seemed you looked at me like you never did before, so. Here we are.”

He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the effect of his words, and so it takes him completely by surprise when Steve takes a hold of him, lies down on the couch and pulls him down with him. Bucky looks at him then, and the pure amusement in Steve’s eyes confuses him.

“I mean, if that’s a bad thing, then I’ve got no right to throw stones, because I only wanted to kiss you after Wakanda, back here.” Steve runs his hands up and down Bucky’s back. “I mean, I guess it’s the same for me, you were always my person, you know? It was always us. It’s just different now. And I guess we’re both different people, and we’re here, and we can be happy, so it’s good in my book.” 

“So you don’t mind?”

“No. I get why you think I might, but looking at it from here, it doesn’t feel superficial, and even when it happened for you after I got the serum, it’s not necessarily the only reason. We were both different people when we found each other.” Bucky must looks skeptical, because Steve smiles and continues, “I don’t know if you even realized it then, but you were different during the war compared to how you were in Brooklyn. And it makes sense, no one was the same after a while there, but with you, before you left you were more tied to the life you thought you were supposed to have, and according to that we couldn’t be anything but friends. When I found you again, you’d let a lot of that go, I think it was all the horror that made you more conscious of everything that was really important.”

Bucky considers it for a moment. His memories are not completely intact, but he trusts Steve, and thinks Steve might even be right about this. Maybe it wasn’t just Steve’s transformation that was the catalyst, maybe there was more to it. It would explain why he’d suddenly been mesmerized by things Steve had always had, the curve of his mouth or the bright blue of his eyes. Maybe he’d just finally allowed himself to be, because keeping up appearances to himself didn’t matter when his life was hanging by a thread. 

“Maybe,” he allows, because it’s the most he can do.

Steve grins at him. “Besides, it’s not like I mind that you like looking at me. I wish you hadn’t had to feel conflicted about it on the way, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for that. I know you always saw the real me, and the way it has shifted doesn’t change it. Every time we’ve come together we’ve been different people, the both of us, and what’s between has changed too, and now we’re here and I’m happy.”

Bucky feels lighter, the final hints of guilt dissolving. It’s okay, he decides to believe it is since Steve says so, and Bucky knows him, through and through, and all he can see is sincerity. Also love, the same he has seen in Steve’s eyes since childhood, and more than that besides. “I’m happy too.”

He shifts up, enough that he can kiss Steve without reaching. Steve’s hands are warm on his back, and he shifts under Bucky, strains to press even closer. Bucky moves down from Steve’s mouth, along the curve of his jaw, licking at his stubble, raspy against his tongue, smiling when Steve actually giggles at it, sucks at Steve’s earlobe, and pulls out a sigh from Steve, his fingers twitching on his back. Steve tilts his neck as an invitation, and Bucky takes it, kisses town the column of his throat, sucks a bit at his pulse point, more than he would if Steve didn’t heal so fast that any marks are soon gone.

He goes back up to Steve’s mouth, listening to the responses he pulls, and runs one hand down Steve’s chest, thumbing a nipple on the way. Steve jolts at it, tenses just a bit even when he pulls Bucky closer, and Bucky lightens the kiss, lets the heat simmer down. He shifts down again, lower so that he can lay down with his head on Steve’s chest, listening to his heartbeat calm down.

There’s arousal coursing in him, dimming now, and probably in Steve too, but there’s still something whispering to him,  _ not yet, _ and he listens. There is time, and besides, he’s perfectly happy, warm and content with Steve’s hand in his hair, the dearest voice whispering his new favorite words.

“Love you too,” Bucky says, and works his hands under Steve to hold him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had another scene where I went with the inspiration of the moment. I had known they would at some point say the words “I love you”, I’d even decided it most likely would be initiated by Bucky, but I hadn’t decided exactly where. They just arrived at that moment here in this chapter.


	6. under me you so quite new

Bucky’s moving dishes out of the washer and into the cupboards when there’s a knock on his door, followed by Steve barging in and poking his head around the corner to wave at him. His cheeks are red from the fall air; it’s a properly cold day, one of the first. It’s a surprise to see Steve, because Bucky was supposed to go to the compound and spend the afternoon there. They more often stay at his house on weekends, but Steve was needed on call, and hence they’d made different plans.

He abandons the task to go and see Steve, in process of getting rid of his boots, jacket, and scarf. “Did something happen? I thought you were supposed to be on call.”

“Yeah, they solved that problem, so I’m free unless some nutjob with a lot of firepower turns up. I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

“You could have called, you know.” Bucky smiles, though he too is happy Steve came to his house. The compound is great, but when he’s not working he’s more comfortable somewhere an AI isn’t pretending to give them privacy.

“Yeah, well. I just wanted to get away.” Steve comes closer, and backs Bucky up all the way to the wall, crowding in. “I know the private apartments are just that, but I kind of wanted to do this away from the eyes in the ceiling.” Steve’s lips brush against Bucky’s, feather light.

“Do what?” Bucky asks, even when he has a pretty good idea. His heart certainly does, picking up its pace.

“I’m done waiting. I know you wanted to take it slow, and I love you for that, because it’s been good, but I’m about to burst here.”

Bucky takes Steve’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes, searching. There’s no hint of the previous hesitation, no uncertainty, just desire. The voice inside him that so far has whispered for him to wait is practically shouting now, and Bucky is all too happy to obey.

“Get in here.”

He pulls Steve into a kiss, one that’s not the most technically successful one since Steve is laughing, completely delighted. Still, it might be Bucky’s favorite kiss yet. He too smiles into it until the desire wins and they’re kissing for real, pressed together against the wall. Bucky slides his hands under Steve’s shirt, and Steve arches into the touch. He realizes suddenly that Steve is probably as starved for contact as he is; for all that they cuddle a lot, this is a different thing. It helps him to slow down and realize he doesn’t want their first time to happen in the hallway.

He pulls Steve along with him, arm wrapped around his waist, although he soon has to let go and grasp his hand, because the two of them together are too wide to get through doorways. He pulls Steve into the bedroom, and it’s suddenly different, even though Steve has been there many times. They’ve even spent nights sleeping in the same bed; sometimes it’s just easier not being alone, needing the constant reminder the other is alive and well. They haven’t done it since they started exploring the romantic side of their relationship, it has felt too loaded perhaps, even when they never happened to talk about it. Now they’re here, taking yet another new step.

He pulls Steve down to the bed, and kisses him again, heated and thorough. Steve’s hands come to his waist, sliding under his shirt, and it’s almost as if they paint a trail of heat on him, lighting up his skin. He pulls away for a bit, wanting to know something before they proceed.

“Did you ever do this with anyone?”

Steve pauses, glances away for a second, but looks frankly in Bucky’s eyes again when he says, “No.” He shrugs. “You know how before the war most people didn’t even look at me, and besides I was sick enough to not even really want most of the time. Then there was Peggy.”

“Not with her either?” Bucky’s surprised, but from the way Steve glances at him he thinks he maybe shouldn’t be. “If we talked about this back then, I have to say I don’t remember. It’s kind of fuzzy in parts. I’ve got some bright glimpses, but most of the war just blends together.”

Steve nods, understanding. “It was just, the environment didn’t really work for us. We both wanted, but for Peggy it was hard enough to get even a fraction of the respect she deserved, and you know how it is, if she’d been with me, a lot of people would have thought that was what she was there for. As long as she was unattached, even the detractors had a harder time to say it wasn’t due to her abilities.”

“You didn’t consider keeping it a secret?”

“Yeah, but there was always the risk, being in such close quarters with people. And also, it was easier to keep the barriers up when we never got that close, you know. It would have been harder to stay apart when we had to keep appearances, if we were really together.” Steve looks into the air for a second. “Now though, knowing what happened, I know it was right and sensible, but, well.”

“Can’t help hoping you’d have gone for it after all?”

“Yeah.” Steve shakes his head. “Sorry, this probably isn’t a topic for right now.”

Bucky pulls him closer, runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, it’s okay. I invited it, after all. But not even later, after you woke up here? You told me earlier you did some dating.”

“Yeah, but it never went that far. It never felt right, when I wasn’t drawn to them as people, even if they were physically attractive.”

Steve looks calm about it, it clearly doesn’t bother him at all. Bucky remembers it used to, certainly back before the war, but clearly Steve has had time now to figure things out. He can also appreciate the part where Steve doesn’t want just a physical relationship, he feels it viscerally now for himself too, and it also makes sense when he thinks of Steve as a person. He always cared more about the inside than out.

“It’s all kind of fuzzy for me,” Bucky confesses, because it’s only fair that he too share now that Steve did. “I know I had sex, before, but all I have is glimpses, sensations. Nothing too specific. I think it didn’t stick clearly because it never really meant anything deeper.”

“And now?”

“After I got away from HYDRA, for the longest time there wasn’t anything at all, I just didn’t want to, and even now, when it comes to attraction, there seems to be an on-off switch. And you’re the only one that has managed to flip it.”

Steve pulls away a bit, frames Bucky’s face in his hands and looks very serious when he says, “Thank you for telling me, I know it’s tricky to talk. However,” and now he grins, “I could do with something other than talking here.”

Bucky cracks up. “We did kind of derail here.”

“I know, oh my God, all ready to go for it and then talking about the past.” Steve shakes his head, but laughs again when Bucky pushes him down on his back mostly to shut him up.

Bucky bends down to kiss Steve again while grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull it up. Only he doesn’t really get anywhere with it, since Steve is lying down, and he tugs Steve back up to peel it off.

“Come on, get this off.”

“Good planning there.” Steve still laughs at him, but throws his shirt off, and lets Bucky push him down again.

Bucky swings a leg over Steve, bracketing his hips, and for a moment he just looks, running his fingertips feather light up Steve’s torso. Predictably Steve blushes under his gaze, the pink blooming down to his chest, but he keeps looking at Bucky, a small smile on his lips. His hands rest on Bucky’s thighs, still for the moment, as if waiting for what he’s going to do.

“Remember that time I gave you a massage, after you got shot?”

“Yeah, although I’m not sure bringing up gunshot wounds is conductive to the atmosphere.”

“Stop sassing, I’m trying to tell you something.”

Steve grins. “Make me.”

Bucky pushes his hand more firmly against Steve’s skin, running it up, thumbing a nipple along the way, watching it harden. He shifts on his knees as well, pushing their hips together just a bit, making it obvious they’re a good way toward arousal. Steve’s breath stutters and Bucky smirks at him.

“Better,” Steve says, because he always has been prone to trying to get the last word.

“Anyway,” Bucky continues, drawing patterns on Steve’s skin, varying the pressure, watching his abdominals contract with the touch. “I realized fairly soon I’d probably made a mistake, because getting my hands on you was a bit much, prone to lead my thoughts to other things I wanted to do to you.”

“You could have, though.”

“I know, but I think it would have been different then, not like we are now.”

Steve looks at him, his focus coming more on him rather than on the sensation produced by his hands. “Yeah, maybe. I think, in the long run we’d end up at the same place, regardless of the journey we’d take. For the record though, I how we’ve ended up here.” He smiles and rubs at Bucky’s thighs with his thumbs, the pressure sending warm waves right to Bucky’s gut.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to treat you right, since you don’t do it yourself.”

Bucky dips down to kiss Steve again before sitting up, continuing to map Steve’s body with his hands and gaze. He’s looking now, for all the times in the past when he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow it to himself. He finds a spot over Steve’s lower ribs that’s sensitive, that makes him jolt and arch up, eyes darkening. Bucky’s still sitting fairly snug over Steve’s hips, and he can feel Steve’s cock filling up, and his does too along with it.

“I’m guessing you’re not about to speed this up any,” Steve says, his voice straining already, just a bit, and Bucky’s heart speeds up, just from the confirmation that such a simple touch is already getting to Steve.

“Nope, I’ve waited long enough, I’m going to enjoy this.”

“You know we can do this again though, right?”

“But only once for the first time.” It’s a terribly sappy thing to say, but Steve smiles his sunshine smile at him, and Bucky doesn’t care at all.

Steve grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. “Get this off, fair is fair after all.”

Bucky grins at him and complies. It’s when he’s chucking the shirt away that he’s suddenly self-conscious of his body. Besides his arm, there’s the scarring that even the serum hasn’t been able to smooth away, and he’s suddenly hesitant of finding out how Steve looks at him. It’s somewhat ridiculous; after all he’s been shirtless with Steve countless times since they reconnected, but maybe it’s the fact now Steve is very much looking, when before it hasn’t been about that. If it’s the massages or the communal showers after a mission, it’s not about looking. Now Steve’s gaze is on him, shameless and not hiding that he’s very much paying attention.

Bucky realizes that this is a moment of balance, it’ll sour the very special day if there’s either pity or some other negative emotion he’ll see in Steve’s eyes, and he doesn’t want that, not now. Then again, right away he reproaches himself, because he should have had more faith. All he can see in Steve’s eyes is love and desire, his eyes darkening as he probably without realizing it lifts himself up, his abs contracting as he pulls himself close and brushes his lips over Bucky’s throat.

He should have known, Bucky thinks, half distracted by Steve’s lips and tongue trailing on his skin. After all, there actually was a moment before when Steve really looked at him; back when Bucky realized it wasn’t just him that was feeling the pull. Then too, there was no indication Steve thought anything negative about his appearance, but Bucky had almost forgotten it, since the other revelation was so big.

He runs his hands down Steve’s back, palms flat to cover as much skin as possible, until he comes to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers slip under and he shifts his hips closer with slow rotation of a movement, and Steve lets out a groan, tipping his head back and baring his neck. Bucky bends down to kiss him there, immediately intensifying it, sucking at the skin until Steve is shivering and he’s left a mark that should stay for at least a few hours.

He’s done with delaying, the intensity of feeling finally too strong, and he pushes Steve down on his back again, his hands going to unfasten the jeans. As soon as he gets the zipper down Steve is on with the program, pushing his boxer briefs down with the jeans. Bucky moves up and away from him for long enough to pull them completely off, tossing them to the floor before climbing over him again. Steve makes a huffing noise, hands landing on Bucky’s waistband, but he doesn’t get anywhere with it before Bucky bends down and latches his lips on Steve’s nipple.

Bucky sucks hard, feeling the nipple pebble to hardness under his tongue. Steve arches up toward him, into his touch, hands almost bruising on his sides, and Bucky relishes in it, that such simple things are able to bring Steve to the edge. Steve’s cock is fully hard now, pressed against Bucky’s stomach, and Steve tries to shift his hips, unconsciously seeking friction, but isn’t very successful, because Bucky’s pinning his legs down. He too is filling his jeans, they’re slowly constricting him, and he almost regrets not letting Steve peel them off, but only almost. For now, he wants to explore.

He follows the patterns he earlier drew with his fingers, but now with his tongue, sometimes dragging his teeth along Steve’s skin, and trying to figure out how to draw new kinds of sounds out of Steve. It takes a while; at first Steve is clearly holding back, even when there isn’t anyone who’d hear them, but bit by bit he lets loose as Bucky’s lips and hands map out his skin. He finally lets out a shuddering moan when Bucky sucks a mark over his lower ribs, right where he earlier found the sensitive patch of skin. Steve’s hands fly into his hair probably by instinct, but he doesn’t grab, just caresses, uncoordinated but tender. Bucky pushes into the touch, smiling into Steve’s skin before moving down.

He holds on to Steve’s hips, steadying him even as he slides between his legs, pushing them apart with his knees. Steve is staring at him, eyes big, pupils blown wide, and Bucky grins at him, delight curling in his stomach at how flushed Steve looks. He’s halfway to being undone already, and Bucky wants to take him all the way, wants to see him when all his barriers have been pushed aside, when he’s let go of every ounce of control.

Very deliberately Bucky bends down and looks at Steve’s eyes darkening, holding tight as Steve wants to shift his hips, not allowing it. He kisses Steve at the inside of his left thigh, and from the way he twitches, from the strangled, halfway admonishing, “Bucky!” he gets it wasn’t what Steve was expecting. All the better. He sucks another mark there, finding it almost as easy as leaving one on Steve’s throat. He moves over to the other side, breath ghosting over the base of Steve’s cock, drawing yet another gasp. He sucks another mark on Steve’s right inner thigh before pulling up, admiring the symmetry of his work.

He admires other things too, all of Steve’s bare skin before him, perspiration gathering up his throat, chest heaving even now that Bucky’s not touching him anywhere other than still holding a firm grasp on his hips, eyes fallen closed now, lips bitten red. He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, and no one’s ever seen him like this. It’s a very definitely possessive flare in Bucky’s chest that tells him that if only he plays his cards right, no one else ever will.

He leans his elbows on Steve’s thighs when he bends down again, and it’s a good thing too, because Steve’s legs twitch almost violently when he slides his mouth down and up again the underside of Steve’s cock, licking and sucking. When he takes the head into his mouth, Steve goes boneless, legs falling open, hand clutching at the sheets, and Bucky would smile if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.

By now Steve has let all the caution in the wind, and he’s incoherent enough that he can’t even properly form words, he’s only capable of breathy moans and half uttered syllables, and Bucky drinks it all in even as he takes Steve in deeper, filling his mouth. He comes up to draw a breath, and licks at the head, slight saltines on his tongue, seeing Steve even more flushed than before, tendons on his neck prominent. He’s definitely close already, and since he doesn’t seem to have any more coordination, Bucky lets go of his hips, grasps the base of his cock in his left hand and gently takes a hold of his balls with his right.

Steve lets out a strangled moan when Bucky sets to sucking the head of his cock in earnest now, going down to his fist, moving it up and down. Steve’s hand finds its way into his hair again, the other is still tangled in the sheets, but he doesn’t pull at all, he’s gentle even now at the brink of an orgasm with Bucky, and there’s a new flare of desire again in him, he’s suddenly conscious of how hard he is, unlike before when he was solely concentrating on Steve.

He bobs his head up and down twice more before Steve tenses and comes. Bucky sucks him through it, all the way beyond aftershocks, until Steve twitches in a way that says he’s getting oversensitive.

Bucky pulls up then, he rests his cheek on Steve’s thigh, ignoring his own arousal again, just watching Steve come down from the high. This moment is all his, and it’s better than anything he’s experienced yet.

Steve finally gets his eyes open enough to peer at Bucky, and his smile is definitely dopey. Bucky would make fun of him, except he probably isn’t any better, and when Steve raises his hand to caress his head he again remembers he hasn’t come yet, that he’s very much overdue.

Steve realizes the problem when he shifts and lets out an unsteady breath. “Get up here, Buck, you have too much patience for your own good.”

Steve is grinning, his eyes happy and bright when he sits up and pulls Bucky up to half kneel on his lap. They seem to be equally in the hurry, their hands grasping at the fastenings of his jeans, the button pings away and the zipper rips. Steve’s hands are on him then, and all Bucky can do is let his head fall against Steve’s neck, clutch at his shoulders and fuck into the tight circle of his hand as Steve brings him to the brink. He comes all over Steve’s chest and they collapse again, he mostly on top of Steve, tangled in the jeans pushed down to his thighs.

“I really liked these jeans,” Bucky says, after a few minutes when he’s capable of speech again.

“It’s a price you have to pay for good things,” Steve says, laughter in his voice, clearly completely unrepentant.

Bucky bites him lightly on the collarbone in retaliation, even when he completely agrees.

***

They finally drag themselves to the shower when they start getting itchy and cold. Bucky runs the soaped washcloth all over Steve, familiarizing his hands with the dips and bulges of his musculature. It’s hard to concentrate with Steve washing his hair thoroughly enough that it turned into a head rub several minutes earlier. At least Bucky has his house fully powered by an arc reactor, meaning there’s no need to fear water getting cold on them.

“This reminds me of when I realized I wanted to climb you like a tree,” Bucky says, almost absentminded.

“Oh, really?” Steve asks, sounding highly amused.

Bucky blinks his eyes open, because he hadn’t really meant to say it, hadn’t meant to tell Steve the details of how it happened. He’s told of the struggle he had, but not the exact circumstance. Might as well now, since he started, and can’t really come up with a compelling reason why not.

He drops the wash cloth and circles Steve’s waist with his hands, thumbs coming to rest on his hips. He remembers how he was completely poleaxed then, and it must reflect on his face, because Steve cracks up, silently laughing at him. Bucky squeezes at him in retaliation, not that it bothers Steve the least bit.

“It was at the showers, after we’d come back to the camp from the HYDRA factory. I saw you and it just hit me like no one ever had, you with your ridiculous tiny waist and legs going for miles.” Bucky slides his hands down the sides of Steve’s thighs, stepping closer to reach lower.

Steve slides his hands down his neck and back, holding him close, bending to kiss him at the spot where his shoulder joins his neck. Bucky tilts his head back, banishing the memory to the back of his mind. The current reality is much better, and he wants to enjoy it without distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys were very uncooperative in this chapter; I set out like, now you’re going to do it, got them in the bed and then they just wouldn’t stop talking:D


	7. i like my body when it is with your body

Bucky is almost deliriously happy, and even the winter descending on them does nothing to dampen it. Now the cold doesn’t seem so bad when he can curl up on the couch with Steve, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by pillows. It’s comfortable, it’s reassuring, and it soothes them both, banishes the shadows that rise to their minds with the temperature going down and days getting darker.

It’s not that different really, the way their lives have shaken out. The work is still the same, they still spend a lot of their free time together, they still spar, they still snap irritably at each other when they think one of them has been too reckless on the field.

They still love each other, more than they ever could love anyone else. That hasn’t changed, and if the signs are to be believed, won’t ever change. 

What is different is that Bucky’s things at the compound have moved from the guestroom to Steve’s bedroom and closet, and there are a lot more of Steve’s things in Bucky’s house. At this point it’s more accurate to say the two of them have an apartment at the compound and a house some distance away, instead of them belonging to one of them more than the other.

There’s the sex too, but in addition to it physical intimacy has been turned up to eleven. There is an ease to it now, an additional way for them to communicate with each other, to seek calm and comfort, and it’s at least as important.

They’re also more honest with each other, more than they ever used to be, he thinks. They were always close, but now the last barriers around their souls have been demolished, and they’ve allowed each other to see it all; the happiness, the beauty, the embarrassment, the ugliness, the rage. All that makes them who they are.

The rest of the Avengers, as well as their other friends, now know about them, and it still strikes Bucky how amazing it is they don’t need to hide, that there are no negative consequences of being together. He knows that when it becomes public, there’ll be haters, but there will also be those who’ll approve, who’ll be encouraged by it. And even then, it’s less personal, it matters less what the people they don’t know will say. He can’t say it won’t matter, because it will, just not in a way that would make him change anything.

It’s all just so good, more than he expected really, and he knows he’s steadier too, it affects everything that he’s not worrying over whether he should talk to Steve and if he does what it will mean. They’re still settling in their reformed relationship, it’s still shifting and they’re continuously learning new things about each other, but the part that matters the most, the one that tells him it’ll last, that’s solidified already.

It’s obvious to Bucky it’s been the same with Steve too. Back before he figured out Steve looked at him as more than a friend, after he came back to New York from Wakanda, he thought Steve appeared steady and content, even happy, but now he knows the difference, how Steve looks when he’s truly happy. It’s something Bucky doesn’t remember ever seeing, and it occurs to him that it’s very likely Steve is now happier than he ever was before. After all, even back before the war, all through his life he was shadowed by illness, poverty, and loss; there never was a time for Steve when he didn’t have to worry about something until now.

Bucky rather wants to punch things after the realization; it’s so unfair that someone would have to live over a hundred years before finding a state of uncomplicated happiness for any stretch of time. He forgoes destroying any punching bags though, and instead goes to the grocery store, makes Steve’s favorite dinner, and does everything in his power to make it a perfect night for him. It’s more productive, and if it makes Steve smile even more, makes him wrap himself around Bucky when he comes in while Bucky’s cooking, all the better.

Bucky is happy, and he even mostly manages to not fear it being snatched away, despite their lifestyle.

***

The movie they’ve been watching ends, but Steve doesn’t make any move to get up, so Bucky stays put as well, since he’s very comfortable where he is. It’s late Saturday afternoon, and they’re at the compound rather than the house, because there’s a snowstorm starting that’s been predicted to last over the next couple of days, and the apartment is easier and safer. There’ll be a lot of shoveling for them to do when they get back, but for now Bucky doesn’t think of it.

They’re curled up on the couch, Steve under his arm with his head resting on his shoulder. Bucky’s hand is hanging over Steve’s chest, and Steve is holding on to it, his other hand on Bucky’s thigh where he absentmindedly draws patterns over it. Because of it Bucky’s been half hard for most of the movie, but even that isn’t pressing, it’s just a comfortably warm arousal, and they’ll probably get to doing something about it sometime later, but for now Bucky’s not in any hurry.

“I like this,” Steve says without clarifying.

“What, hiding from a snowstorm?”

“Well, it’s nice that it’s not cold despite the weather outside, it’s quite a change from our youth, but I meant this, us. We used to sit like this, back before the war.”

“I remember.”

“It’s just, I still sometimes feel like I don’t fit in my skin, the way I am. It still catches me sometimes, but this feels right. Familiar.”

“For me too.” Bucky smiles and presses a kiss on Steve’s temple, settling just a bit closer.

He remembers how sometimes during the war Steve seemed to forget himself, was strangely clumsy as if he expected to be smaller. That doesn’t happen to him anymore, on surface he seems to have come to terms with it, but it doesn’t exactly surprise Bucky that Steve isn’t always comfortable. It’s the same for him, there are still days when he’s perpetually conscious of his arm, unable to treat it just as a limb like he can on good days.

With Steve he never has that issue; it’s partly Steve’s easy acceptance, partly just that he in general feels right with Steve. He’s happy to learn that it’s the same for Steve. They used to have an ease of physical contact before the war, and Bucky is grateful they’ve gotten it back, both in ways that are familiar from decades back and some new aspects added to it.

***

There are aliens in New York, which a ten-year-old Bucky would have probably found exhilarating, and the past-hundred-year-old Bucky finds just annoying. There’s a group of them, although it would probably be more accurate to call it a swarm, as they fly around much like bees do. They don’t respond to any attempts to communicate with them, just fly around and try to grab at people. They look mostly like insects, and seem sluggish in the winter weather, even if it’s not nearly as cold as it could be. They’re not too big, about half a size of a human, and they don’t have any obvious external weapons or other technology, which begs the question of how exactly they got to Earth in the first place, but it’s a question for another time, and other people as well.

For now they focus on getting rid of them.

It takes work, small caliber bullets mostly don’t to anything, so after he’s run out of what he brought for his rifle, Bucky takes a length of iron and begins to bash those coming close enough to him. Wanda is using her magic to force the swarm stay contained in the area, closer to ground, which gives him ample amount of targets. Apparently energy blasts energize them, so he doesn’t feel too inadequate in comparison to others, because even Iron Man is mostly reduced to bashing rather than blasting them. Sam is having fun, leaping into the air and falling down on the aliens, crushing them into the pavement under his heels before springing up again. Natasha has found an actual sword from somewhere, and she’s slicing the heads of all the aliens flying around her.

Steve unsurprisingly is in his element, the shield effective as always, taking out several aliens with each throw. They figure out a pattern of tossing the shield to and fro between the two of them, clearing out the aliens nearby, and despite his irritation, despite knowing this might very well balloon into a major problem soon enough, Bucky is having fun. Steve grins at him, catching the shield and kicking back, dropping an alien flying behind him without looking.

Finally all the aliens are down, littering Manhattan streets in heaps, and Bucky doesn’t even want to think of the effort it’ll take to clear them all out. The Avengers are all worn and scuffed; while a single alien wasn’t too much of a trouble for any of them, there were a lot, and it’s gotten to all of them. Bucky takes a stock on the team, tallying everyone in his mind, and comes to the conclusion there are no serious injuries, which is good enough.

Steve is talking to their support team, coordinating the clean up and the next steps to find out how the aliens came into the city in the first place, and Bucky goes to find his rifle that he tossed as soon as he’d run out of bullets. On the way he helps with clearing out debris from doorways and around cars to let out people trapped inside, making sure anyone lingering gets to shelter from the frigid weather. Happily, while the aliens did try to go after people, for whatever purpose, they couldn’t force themselves into closed spaces, so people had been relatively safe all through the incident inside buildings and cars.

He works, concentrating on the next task to be done, keeping warm, unconscious of the passage of time, and when he makes it there he finds the rifle where he left it in an alley near the edge of the carnage. Small miracles; he wouldn’t have put it past some local gangster to take advantage and add to their collection. Of course, there is a miniature tracker in the gun, so Bucky would have gotten it back, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to go through the trouble.

There is a gaggle of people, both press and other onlookers behind a barricade nearby, but he doesn’t pay any attention to them while he checks the gun is safe. There’s twinge at the side of his head, and his fingers come off bloody when he touches his temple. He’s surprised for a moment, but he then remembers one of the aliens brushing close, a prickle of pain that was buried in the adrenaline of the battle.

“Here, let me have a look.”

Steve is there, apparently done with his duties for now, his hand warm even out of his gloves, and Bucky lets him tilt his head to see the wound better while he takes a stock on Steve’s state. His uniform is torn and scuffed in a few places, and there’s a shadow of a bruise at his jaw, but it’s nothing serious, he’s moving easily, completely without pain, and Bucky lets the residual worry fade away. Steve dabs at the wound on his temple with a pad of gauze he pulled from his belt, serious in concentration, and Bucky smiles. He knows it’s nothing that wouldn’t heal by itself, but he doesn’t protest, just lays his right hand on the wrist of Steve’s hand that’s keeping him steady. They’re out in the open, dozens of people bustling around them, but for a moment it’s almost as if it’s their own little bubble, everything else fading away.

“It’s just a scrape,” Steve says when he’s done, tucking the used bit of gauze back into his belt. “Shallow enough that it’s already healing.”

He’s looking at Bucky, not moving, a nervous energy running through him obvious from the way he’s tense, and suddenly Bucky’s again conscious of where they are, of all the eyes on them.

“Steve?”

“Unless you say no, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Bucky knows what it means, to do it right here, in front of dozens of cameras, and he doesn’t care. Or really, it’s more than that; he wants to do it, and so he grabs a hold of Steve’s uniform and pulls him into a kiss. Steve’s hand slides to the back of his neck, holding him firmly. It’s a very thorough kiss, although not inappropriate for public. Bucky’s aware of flashes of light, their friends calling out to them, laughter that’s happy and not jarring at all.

Steve pulls away just a bit soon enough, smiling at him. “Let’s get away from here, the cleanup is all sorted.”

***

They take the quinjet back to the compound, and Bucky stays at the back, meticulously taking care of his guns and stowing them either in the container designated for them or on himself. Steve is at the front with Stark, probably discussing the first results on the research into the aliens and where they came from, all of them eager to determine whether they should expect more of them.

“You’re trending on twitter,” Natasha says when she comes to sit next to him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything to it, there isn’t really much that he has anyway. Even now that he’s calmed down and thought about it, he’s certain of the decision. He’s been mulling about people finding out about them ever since the relationship with Steve stabilized, knowing they would, sooner or later. Much of his life is public record by now, certainly a lot more than he would want to, and on one hand he liked having a part of it that’s not under a magnifying glass. On the other hand, he knows that nearly everything people know about him has to do with war, suffering, and fighting, and he thinks it’ll probably balance things out a bit, now that a side that’s so normal is shown too.

Natasha looks at him, and when he meets her eyes, she smiles and nods. He knows she gets it, that it’s important for people to see they’re not so different from anyone else. It’s the same about Steve too, this has nothing to do with Captain America, the same way it has nothing to do with the Winter Soldier. When it comes to their relationship, they’re just Bucky and Steve, and while he wants to guard it, it feels right to not keep it completely hidden.

“It says something about people that the kiss has more mentions than the aliens,” Natasha adds, and Bucky finally finds his laughter.

They land soon enough, and when they file out Steve falls into step next to him, heading to the residential wing.

“Not going to command then?” Bucky asks, surprised, since Steve never takes a break before a situation is all clear, he knows it well enough, has known it since the war. He’d already planned to take a shower and then bring food up to Steve and pester him to at least eat while he’s on call.

“No, we contacted Thor, and he knew what the aliens were. They’re kind of a wandering species, they can travel almost instantaneously from place to place. Even the Asgardians don’t know how, but apparently they’re not particularly intelligent, it’s something they manage instinctively. We think they were looking for a place to settle, and apparently they always come the whole group at a time. So there shouldn’t be any more of them by design at least, which means we’re all free until debrief tomorrow.”

Steve slides his hand into Bucky’s and smiles at him, looking worn but happy. There’s no need to ask whether he’s having second thoughts about what they did earlier, it’s obvious he doesn’t, and so Bucky walks with him, talking about the new moves he thought they might practice for the next time something like this happens.

They barely get inside their apartment before Steve pushes Bucky against the wall and presses flush to him. Bucky flashes warm immediately and seeks Steve’s mouth with his, for all that it’s been hours since the battle the leftover adrenaline is still there, the arousal comes in a flood rather than trickle, and he’s growing hard immediately, arching up toward Steve, pressing close and seeking as much contact as possible.

Steve presses deeper into the kiss for a moment before dropping right to his knees and opening Bucky’s pants, pulling them and his briefs down to his thighs. Bucky’s fully hard now, the air cool on his freed cock only for a second before Steve’s mouth is on him.

He braces his left hand on the wall and slides his right into Steve’s hair, not pulling or guiding him, just touching as Steve works on his cock. His eyes slide shut, head comes to rest on the wall behind him, and he just feels, Steve taking him in deep, licking and sucking. It’s not going to take long, they both know it, with Steve’s fever hot palms on his hips, mouth enveloping his cock, nose pressing to the hair at the base of it before he pulls back again, the air almost cold now on Bucky’s wet skin.

He comes into Steve’s mouth, holding his legs steady for as long as he can, but when Steve pulls off he lets himself fall down to sit by the wall. He pulls Steve in for a kiss, tastes himself on his tongue at first before it’s gone and all that’s left is Steve. He intends to reciprocate, but Steve captures his hands and pulls them tight against his chest, leaning their foreheads together. This close up he’s flushed, his mouth red and wet still, breathing hard. Bucky’s seen many wonders of the world, and yet he thinks there’s nothing more beautiful than what’s right in front of him now.

In a moment they will get up, they’ll strip naked and Bucky will get Steve off in the shower, and they’ll probably have a second round right after that in the bed as well. They’ll eat, have more sex, have another shower before finally winding down enough to sleep. He knows how it’ll all go down, but for now it’s all secondary.

For now they breathe each other in while crouched on the floor, not caring a bit it’s not comfortable, because they have each other, they love each other, and these moments are more perfect than anything Bucky ever dared to hope for himself.

He’s fought for many causes, both ones he chose and others that were forced on him, but this is something he’ll fight the hardest for, with every trick and skill he has; to keep Steve with him. 

The best thing is he knows Steve will fight just as hard for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re all done! Thank you all for reading, it’s been a delight, hope you enjoyed reading as much I did the writing.
> 
> I’m also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/post/170980330137/possibly-i-like-the-thrill).


End file.
